Gaykudera Whorato
by MuchFailSauce
Summary: "Who doesn't secretly want an alternate version of themselves to show up and have their way with them, all with style and panache?"  "—the hell,"says Tsuna. - Parody fic, UPDATED. Chapter 1: Gokudera learns to like it. 2: Me, myself, I, and Primo.
1. A Match Made In Stockholm

**Disclaimer: If this was mine it wouldn't be on a site for _Fan_fiction. This one is _really_ not mine though, because it belongs to my Beta's sister, who is awesome. Find her other stuff on this very site, under the name 'MadRabbit'. The only thing I own is the title, which is my name for Gokudera in stories that follow this general plotline.  
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**Fandom: Katekyo Hitman Reborn.**

**Characters: Gokudera Hayato (sort of), Rokudo Mukuro (kind of), and various others in passing (approximatly).  
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**Warnings: Don't read this if you're easily offended by parodies, because this is one. This is for all the people who's stories end with Gokudera turning into someone's whiny little bitch, but not for the people who take that kind of fanfiction seriously. Don't hate, people.  
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**Other: My Beta tells me (I don't know how she knows, but I trust her) that the most common word used in this fic that isn't a name is the word 'sexy' or some kind of variation. I wish I had written this...**

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><p>Gokudera is running. In the dark. Why, precisely? Because statistics show that humans are twenty-five percent more likely to run in fear while in a darkened area. But I digress. You see, he is inconveniently low on dynamite, blood, friends, and sanity, all of which contribute significantly to his horrified state of mind. In the paralyzing and frankly uncharacteristic terror that has gripped him, Gokudera trips and dashes through the thick, clinging, bewildering, swirling, dark darkness. It is very dark.<p>

Because it is necessary to reach the meat of the story as quickly as possible, Gokudera, the Smokin' Bomb, fearsome Vongola Right-hand Man, is assaulted from behind and drops, unconscious, like a sack of potatoes. He lies there, bleeding out messily but not unattractively onto the forest floor.

For he is, indeed, in a forest. Now that I come to think of it.

Actually, not anymore. Now he is in a cold, dark room of the sort where Very Bad Things happen.

"Hnnngh," says Gokudera, with weak and girlish conviction. He tries to move and discovers that his slender, lily-white manicured hands have been secured above his head in the sexiest way possible.

"Damn," he growls, freaking a little. "Not again…!" he knows that shortly growling will leave his repertoire of author-relegated skills and probably pass to whoever comes into the room next. This person, male, will have a very direct schedule in mind—ostensibly torture and information-gathering, two agendas which invariably have only one ulterior motive, even if the perpetrator is actually heterosexual.

Of course, it must be noted that by this point, Gokudera will have passed well beyond the realms of masculinity and his already limited vocal talents for the purpose of this story will have been reduced to whimpering, moaning, and other such high-pitched ululations.

If he is lucky, it will be someone he likes.

"I've been watching you for some time now," says Rokudo Mukuro's voice, silky and deep and sourceless.

Damn. So much for that.

"And how's that been going for you?" He growls, a little tremulously. _Damn!_

"Immensely boring," says Mukuro sexily, appearing before Gokudera in a swirl of sexy, dark mist. He exudes enigmatic seme-ness. Gokudera can feel the fiery, manly Mafioso of his soul waning, and grimaces.

"Do your worst."

"Such bravado is pointless, Gokudera Hayato," says Mukuro huskily. "_Kufufu_…once I'm finished, _all_ the information of the Vongola will be _mine_."

"So you're going to use the influence you got over me during our first battle to take the answers out of my brain?" Says Gokudera, restraining the hope in his voice (barely). (Sorry, Tenth.)

"That would make too much sense," purrs Mukuro, "and should my usual sexily bloody…_torture_ methods fail, you will at least be…_anemic_ enough to excuse your pathetic behavior during the…_techniques_ that follow…_kufufu_…"

Gokudera, still conscious enough to notice the extensive use of suggestive ellipses, forces himself into one last stretch of bravado in the apparently terrifying darkness of the room.

"If it comes to that, why didn't you just take off my clothes in the first place?"

"Well now, that wouldn't be sexy, would it?" breathes Mukuro, who is slowly running out of sexy ways of talking. Eventually, the author will be forced to re-use "purrs" and "huskily". "I would _much_ rather remove them slowly and teasingly, probably with my trident."

_I am horrified and yet strangely aroused_, thinks Gokudera, as he always seems to end up doing. But because there was no sexual tension in consensual sexual acts, he says "I am not a whore."

"Just keep telling yourself that, darling," purrs Mukuro sexily, and pulls his own jacket open to reveal his preciously undisclosed rock-hard abs, which gleam like white seashells in the blackness. He is paler than an eyeless, soft-skinned deep-sea fish.

Apparently, Gokudera finds this sexy as well. Straining for straightness and normality, he manages to croak, "_What about Chrome? I though…you…were straight…_"

This is not strictly true. However, it's the best last-ditch defense he can think of.

"That was an illusion," whispers Mukuro, and begins to slice away Gokudera's shirt with impressively precise strokes of his trident. Then he shoves his pale, sexily creepy/creepily sexy face into Gokudera neck, which makes The Other Boy (TM) whimper like a weepy little girl. One cue, Mukuro chuckles sexily and then growls possessively and goes after Gokudera's pants. Various atrocities are then committed upon Gokudera's pale, slender, smooth-skinned, rosy-lipped, emerald-eyed, apparently delicious and irresistible person.

After several inordinately long paragraphs of these explicit endeavors, repeated until total ukefication has been induced, the two lie there, panting and sweating and doing various other things one generally expects after vigorously intimate activities.

"You know I love you in a unique, twisted, and faintly sado-masochistic way, Hayato-kun," breathes Mukuro in his deep, sexy, silky, husky, sexy voice, his white, rock-hard abs heaving like seagulls floating on the arctic swells.

Yes, Mukuro-sama," moans Gokudera prettily, kind of hating himself but not really because, let's face it; he doesn't really count as Gokudera Hayato anymore.

"What about me?" cries Tsuna weakly from off-screen, making a last-ditch attempt at canon.

"I am conflicted," says Gokudera-thing sadly, and then goes to make sweet, fiery love with some guy he was supposed to hate.

And it is very, _very_ sexy. The ostensible purpose of interrogation is forgotten and Chrome is…who, again?

(Somewhere else: )

"I feel affection for you," said Xanxus throatily.

"Oh _God_," said Squalo.

(The End)

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><p><strong>Poor Squalo. IT'S RAPIN' TIMEZ NAO. TT_TT<br>**


	2. I Am He As You Are He As You Are Me

**Disclaimer: This is not mine either, it's from my beta again, except this time it's hers instead of her sister's.  
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**Fandom: Katekyo Hitman Reborn.**

**Characters: Sawada Tsunayoshi (x3), Vongola Primo/Sawada Ieyasu/Giotto Vongola (why the name problems, 1st?). So yeah. Tsuna, Tsuna, Tsuna, and Tsuna's past reincanation or some shit like that. I don't know.  
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**Warnings: If the first one affended you or you get affended by the four guys up there doing a fanfiction, you should probably go now.**

**Other: I laughed so hard at the omake, because we both read a fic like that seperetly and then she wrote the omake and we figured out we both knew the story. It was hilarious. No offense, I'm not laughing at the person who wrote that or anything, in case this ever gets to them...**

**...Imma shutup now.  
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><p>"I don't like this idea," says Tsuna, and Reborn bitch-slaps him like a bitch and goes back to watching his chameleon. This is not a euphemism, although Reborn is rumored to—<em>ahem<em>—'watch the chameleon' plenty on his own time. Tsuna has heard these rumors, and is still terrified that he might someday find out what they mean.

"Shut up," Reborn adds, apparently as an afterthought, and Tsuna rubs his sore face and subsides for another few minutes.

—until finally he can't take it anymore. He turns to his home tutor again. "I think this is a bad idea."

"Loser-Tsuna, I'm warning you."

"I'm getting an attack of sudden Vongola Intuition," persists Tsuna, and then cringes at Reborn turns to give him a cold '_what-did-I-just-say?_' kind of death glare under the brim of his fedora. "…I mean, it _sounds_ like an okay idea…I guess…I just don't like it, that's all."

Reborn shrugs insouciantly, because it is the duty of home tutors not to give a shit, and loads the bullet into his pistol with an official little _click_. Tsuna gulps, hard.

"It will be good training," says Reborn shortly, and then he fires the gun and everything goes as white as the page of a writer with writer's block.

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><p>Tsuna wakes up to a feeling like his head is on fire and the familiar feeling that his clothes are all gone. For a boy who doesn't drink, take any recreational drugs, or have an active sex life of any sort whatsoever, this is a bizarrely frequent occurrence, and he handles it with all the aplomb of Sawada Tsunayoshi at his finest.<p>

"Oh my god! Where am I? What's going on? Reborn! _Reborn!_ Hey—!"

"He left while you were unconscious," says a smooth, rich, significantly familiar voice, and Tsuna screams out loud and levitates humorously backwards until his head slams into the wall. He slumps over with a little groan, whimpers in pain a little, and then opens his eyes and sees a hand extended to help him up, in front of his wide, tear-sparkling eyes.

…huh.

While Tsuna is still trying to figure out what was wrong with the previous sentence, the hand grabs his own with gentle but irresistible force and pulls him to his feet. Tsuna staggers around a bit, with all the usual grace of someone who has slammed their head against a wall, and then looks up at his rescuer, his cheeks flushed pink with innocent embarrassment.

…wait, with—?

"Hey there," says the tall, suave, golden-eyed, silky-haired, suave, smiling, suave version of Tsuna, and wiggles his eyebrows in a way that would be suggestive if he didn't look so cool and mature. "…I knew wearing my flimsiest pair of boxers today was a good choice."

Tsuna dies a little bit inside.

"Why are there two of me?" He wails to the sky, and then, receiving no answer, specifies, "—why are there two of me, _Reborn_? Come on, what the hell—"

That's as far as he gets before Hyper-Dying-Will-Tsuna picks him up easily—somehow getting your hair set on fire and putting in gold contacts makes you about a half a foot taller and gives you the ability to render people helpless; Tsuna's best attempts to punch himself in the mouth somehow come out even more pathetically feeble than everything else he tries to do—and drops him onto his bed.

Tsuna, who knows how this is going to go just because his life _sucks_ like that, says (albeit in a voice about three pitches higher than normal) "—I thought you were supposed to train me!"

"I am," says HDW-Tsuna, and Tsuna's pants catch fire. They go out before Tsuna can start shrieking, and he realizes quickly that his house (and other, more personal things) are neither scorched, nor currently on fire.

Other, more pressing problems make themselves known at this point.

"But I don't _want_—" he starts, and then his dialogue is hijacked by a girlish gasp as his fiery other self does censored things, before he continues his sentence more forcefully; "—this is probably illegal!"

"But you _do_ want me to do this," says HDW-Tsuna, with impressive logic for someone occupied like he is—his expression has stayed almost exactly the same since he showed up, and doesn't seem likely to change. "—because _I_ want to do this and I'm you. Just think of it as the _awesome_ version of masturbating, and you're set. Anyway, who doesn't secretly want an alternate version of themselves to show up and have their way with them, all with style and panache?"

"—the _hell_," says Tsuna, whose face is now stuck in a permanent, whimpery kind of 'little-girl-whose-kitten-ran-away' tearfulness, but whose mouth is apparently still free from influence (the contrast really is an odd one). "No! That doesn't make any sense at all! I secretly want to rape myself?"

"…don't we all?"

Tsuna and his Hyper-Dying-Will self both turn, one looking cool and disinterested, the other with increasingly enormous eyes that are sparkling with unshed tears, to the source of this apparently deep, meaningful response, and see a man with deep brown eyes and a manly mafia mantle sitting in a puff of smoke, looking…naked.

"Hello," says Tsuna from ten years in the future, even more suavely than Tsuna's suave alter ego, and throws off the mantle with dramatic flair—like a better class of stripper, because mafia bosses aren't strippers and he's the boss. "I was waiting for my lovers and lost track of the time. We do a lot of _personal bonding_ in the future, you know."

"Goddammit," says Tsuna, who is trying and failing to get his legs to cooperate so he can kick his alternate self in the crotch.

"Even then I was so hot," says older Tsuna appreciatively, in a deep and manly, not-at-all pedophilic way, and scoots inconspicuously down the bed. "Move over, glowy, I'm the alpha bitch here now."

"…or we could share," suggests HWD-Tsuna plaintively, and then looks up at the sudden glow of golden light that's shining over everything. "…oh. Well, we could share with him too."

"Hey," says Giotto, and runs a hand through his golden hair with solemn, slightly angsty majesty. "…I hear there's a party going on in the 21st century, and it's all in Decimo's pants."

"I know, wasn't I adorable?" says future-Tsuna, and joins in doing censored things while Tsuna notices vaguely that his waist is suddenly a lot slimmer and he appears to suddenly have much more prominent hips than he did before. In the meantime, his mouth gives a little hiccupping sob, like a kitten burping or something equally adorable, and Giotto begins to look distinctly shifty.

"…I think," he says, "…it's time to impart a new technique to my successor."

"Oh _good_," says Tsuna, and then he whimpers—or mewls, or something. Purrs, probably. Honestly, he can imitate a whole lot of animals, but these are the only ones he ever seems to get the opportunity to use. Maybe most people just don't appreciate a good elephant imitation.

"…I call it, 'bottoming the whole world at the same time,'" says Giotto.

…and then he wiggles his eyebrows.

Goddammit.

Omake:

"...we should invite over Gokudera-kun."

*groan*

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><p><strong>I'm not sure whether that would send Gokudera into a horrified coma or make him pass out from sheer happy, but I guess either one would be pretty fun. I don't know, but this is probably ShougiKnights fault, because she gave akimichiko some ideas and thats what made this.**

**...I really want to see a fic where Tsuna does elephant imitatios during this kind of stuff. :D**

**-FSA  
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